His Angel
by HardfacedQueenofMisadventure
Summary: An almost-confession, a mission gone awry, and a bullet. The path to admitting your feelings is never straightforward. A Switch/Apoc oneshot, takes place a while before the first film.


**This time, I thought I'd take a break from my usual pairing of NeoTrin, and try something a little different. Switch and Apoc don't seem to get a lot of love, so they're getting plenty of it here. Switch may seem OOC, but this story takes place very early on in her time out of the Matrix, so she's far less experienced than she seemed in the first movie. Don't bite my head off for it, please. Anyway, enjoy!****  
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Apoc still has no idea why Switch chose to wear white, but he does know that, in the deep orange light of the artificial sunset before them, it makes her look like an angel. She's facing away from him – thank God, because otherwise she'd catch him staring – the light illuminating her from behind, igniting her pale hair like wildfire. His breath catches. God, she's so beautiful.

Their mission had been a simple one; collect a message from another ship, something to do with one of the new Potentials. It only required two crew members, and he'd been surprised when Switch, usually so quiet and reserved, had been the first to volunteer. Naturally he chose to accompany her; he didn't doubt her competence at all, but he wanted to make sure she was safe, despite the low level of danger in their task.  
And now, job finished, they stand on the top of a high building, a combination of pleasant vertigo and adrenaline from an earlier chase making them both tremble slightly. She's making the call now, trying to keep her tone level, but she's powerless to stop the pride at her achievement from colouring her voice; he can almost hear her smiling as she tells Tank that they've made it.

"All right…" The phone's back in her coat pocket now. "Our nearest exit is – What are you staring at?" _Caught in the act… _The hostility in her tone is fake, he can tell; her eyes are shining playfully from behind her gold-tinted shades. Still, he feigns innocence, holding up both hands and backing away slightly.

"Nothing, nothing." She smirks, the change in expression suiting her, so different from the passive, blank mask he so often sees on her back on the Neb.

"Don't deny it, I saw you." She's leading him along now; fully knowing the answer to her question but wanting to hear it from him. Well, they're standing on top of a very high building at sundown in a virtual world where practically every rule can be bent, broken or ignored, so he may as well be brave.

_Switch, I _was_ staring at you, because you're the most beautiful thing I've seen in this world and I'm in love with you. _He knows what he wants to say, but still, he hesitates. Swallows hard, glances down at the sprawling city several hundred feet below. "Switch…" he begins falteringly, closing the space between them with a few short purposeful strides. She looks taken aback, but accepts it willingly enough, holds her ground as she waits for whatever may happen next. He takes off his shades to look at her without the reflective glass tinting everything darker, and she smiles her understanding. She knows what he wants to do.

"Apoc?" Her own glasses are off now, her cool grey eyes unguarded. "They'll see us, won't they?" Her eyes turn skywards for a second, and he knows what she means. Their every action is currently being displayed in the Core, lines of cascading green betraying them right now. He shrugs.

"Let them." He leans in slowly. _If she's willing… _They get no further, because at that moment, a microsecond before their lips touch, a gunshot tears the silent air. A warning shot; neither of them are hurt. He doesn't turn to see the Agent behind them, he merely seizes Switch by the hand and runs, hoping that they'll get enough of a run up before they have to jump-

As they leave the rooftop, he feels her stiffen slightly; she's never done this for real, only ever in the training programs. But he squeezes her hand hard, and somehow they both make it across, a hail of gunfire in their wake.  
It's his fault, he supposes, for waiting around. If he hadn't wasted precious minutes back there, they'd be out by now, out and safe. That thought dogs him with every step.

They hit the ground running, together, and do not look back. Down a fire escape, gunshots behind them a constant reminder to _keep moving. _Switch leads, remembering where their exit is, but the Agent is too close to outrun, they have to hide. Willing his body to move faster, Apoc pulls them both through a door, into an abandoned warehouse, hoping against hope and logic that they'll go unnoticed. They'll hide here for a little while, and slip out again when the coast is clear. Five seconds slip by, ten, fifteen, thirty… nothing. He allows himself to exhale.

Then he realises that Switch's hand isn't in his anymore. He turns. Her gaze is somewhat distant, her jaw tightened with pain. One hand is pressed tightly to her upper chest, just below her right shoulder. She moans his name in disbelief, moves her hand slowly. An ugly blossom of red is slowly enveloping the white fabric. _No, oh…no. _

Did a bullet graze her, did it…? No, no, no, there's blood on the other side; an exit wound. Nowhere directly fatal, far away from the heart and lungs, but there's a lot of blood. Too much.

He's barely thought that as she drops to her knees in front of him, an unrestrained cry of pain ripping from her throat.

"Ohh…_shit_," she gasps. _This is not happening. This is not happening. _It's too surreal; she was okay just a few minutes ago, there's no way that she's hurt and bleeding on the floor in front of him… The phone's in her other hand; he takes it from her, presses buttons without thinking.

"_Operator?" _Within seconds, Apoc and Tank have formed a plan. The Agent is waiting by the door, but there's a wide window at the back, mostly broken. If they can climb out through there and run for it, there's an exit he can patch only two blocks away. That's their best option, but Switch is losing blood, fading fast. He kneels in front of her, his expression serious now, cupping the side of her face.

"Switch, listen to me." She nods, blinking hard, trying to stay with it. "I know it hurts, but we're going to have to run now. Do you think you can hang on for me?" She falters, but nods, slowly climbing to her feet. He grips her tightly around the waist, and again, they run, knowing it's only a matter of seconds before the Agent realises and starts tailing them again.

They make it about a block and a half (_so close, so close!_) before the dead weight of her body drags her from his grip. She hits the concrete with hands and knees and resignation, fully knowing that even if she somehow musters the strength to stand, she'll manage another two or three steps before her strength fails her for good.

"G…get out," she slurs to Apoc, lifting her head weakly. She's beyond pale now, looking just as she did when she was first unplugged. Weak, shaking, barely aware of her surroundings...and _afraid. _So afraid.  
This isn't fair. They were supposed to be safe; a routine mission, perfect for easing Switch, their youngest and newest, into the game. And she really is so young. He's been out a year, she, barely three months. On the Neb, they have no idea of what year it is, but days can be marked in chalk on the walls, tallied into weeks and months, like in prison cells in old movies. Only they're not counting down to their freedom, they're counting down to… what? Peace? The end of the war? Or are they simply counting to prove to themselves that time is passing, that every day that slips by has a purpose?

_She's so young._ She doesn't deserve to die like this. "No," he tells her, calm and cold. "No."

"I can't…" she shakes her head. "It hurts, it hurts…so much!" He clasps her hands then: shaking and bloody and too fragile to ever be seen wrapped around a gun, and looks her dead in the eye. Dark grey, a cold void this time filled with fear.

"I'm not leaving you here," he growls, and, before she can protest, scoops her up in his arms. She's lighter than he anticipated. He runs, holding her close, willing her to hang on, to stay awake just a few moments longer. Her body is slowly going limp in his arms, her head coming to rest against his collarbone.

"Don't you dare," he mutters, knowing she'll hear. A faint murmur is her only response, followed by an agonized gasp. He swallows, bracing as if her pain is his own. He can see the payphone up ahead, hear the ringing that signals freedom and safety and _home_, and he knows that it's now or never. She needs to hear this now.

"I love you," he whispers as they come to a stop. He feels her tense in his arms, a split-second before she passes out.

* * *

As he awakens back on the Neb, he finds himself wondering if she heard or not. He looks over at her ashen form lying still in the chair, watches Dozer gently helping her to her feet, leading her towards sickbay. She'll be out of action for a day or so, and sore for a few weeks, but she'll be okay. Her eyes are unfocused, but for a second she looks in his direction, pale lips curving up in the faintest of smiles. She doesn't say anything, though. She doesn't have to.

It's only days later, together in her cramped cabin, sharing the only blanket and each other's body heat, when his fingertips wander to the blue-black inkspill on the ivory skin of her shoulder. She recoils marginally at the contact, but she's smiling at him.

"I love you, too." And that smile remains in place, even after they give in to impulse and kiss.

The smile suits her face better here than it does in the Matrix.

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**Say cheese, people. Unnnnnggg, it's nearly half past one in the morning over here, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep unless I posted this now. With a bit of luck it's mostly error-free; I did manage to spot a bit where I'd literally deleted half a sentence without looking, though, so... if you see anything, let me know, preferably without flaming me.  
Anyway, please review, because reviews are what keep me going. Bye for now...*snores***


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